


Fires of Hephaestus

by Butterfly



Series: Lessons of Icarus [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, POV: Tony Stark, Tony/OFC - Freeform, Tony/OMC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all honesty, Tony is beginning to wonder about his taste in women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fires of Hephaestus

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning in endnote.

The thing about being tortured—at least about the times Tony had been tortured—was that he had a lot of downtime in between sessions. Sure, there were the moments of blinding agony, someone grabbing him by the hair and making demands, but then there were also the long stretches of time in between.

At first, there was relief in those empty spaces. The pain would begin to fade and he wouldn't have to concentrate so hard on not breaking. Soon enough, though, that time became a torment in itself, as all those aches settled into his bones and refused to leave.

After the first time he'd been tortured, Tony had managed to claw his way into being a man who fought for the right side. He'd taken the hurts and the humiliations and he'd channelled them into becoming an instrument of his own redemption. He'd turned himself from an unknowing bad guy into one of the good guys.

And he'd been rewarded for it—he'd gotten the girl, gotten his own band of friends, gotten his big happy ending all tied up in a shiny red bow.

All hail the conquering hero.

That's how the story was supposed to end.

* * *

When Tony Stark first saw Natasha Romanoff, back when she'd been Natalie Rushman, he noticed immediately how gorgeous she was. No one could have missed it, not with her soft waves of auburn hair, her steady and self-assured gaze, and how her figure was, quite literally, that of a lingerie model. Still, he never gave any real thought to chasing after her, not with Pepper standing right there in front of him.

Pepper Potts was the first time in his life that Tony had ever been in love. He'd lusted after more women than he could count but Pepper...she was different. Once he stopped being such a screw-up, it seemed almost natural that he and Pepper figured things out too. He'd rebuilt himself as a new man—a _good_ man. Someone Pepper could look at as more than just her drunken, promiscuous, and constantly tardy boss.

He thought he'd remade himself; that he'd created a better version of Tony Stark.

* * *

Tony wasn't sure how long he'd been captured this time. The hours bled into each other and he didn't know if it had been days or weeks or months. The light was always the same, sputtering and low, and they forced bread and water down his throat every few hours.

If he threw up, the guards laughed.

Hammer came down personally to watch when Tony was questioned, though he rarely got his hands dirty himself, instead standing there as his minions worked Tony over. Some days, he wouldn't say a single word the entire time. It was strange how that one familiar face made it all so much more surreal—Hammer was a corporate know-nothing, a coward and an incompetent.

He was someone Tony had known for most of his life. This wasn't a betrayal the way that Obie turning on him had been—he'd never trusted Hammer far enough to spit on—but there was still something startling about it, each time Hammer's eyes met his.

He'd known that Justin Hammer didn't like him; he'd never realized how much the man hated him.

* * *

The first cracks in his relationship with Pepper went unnoticed. They fought a little more often, with less teasing and more sharpness. He got the odd sense, at times, that they were slipping away from each other, but he was able to ignore it. After all, he loved her more than he'd ever cared about anything in his entire life. Pepper was special. She was the one thing he wasn't going to ruin.

Despite his best efforts, though, his mistakes kept piling up.

He knew he'd messed up with how he'd introduced her to Steve—hell, he'd screwed up by not introducing her to Steve months earlier—and he didn't blame her for being quiet that night, for not wanting to talk about it when he chased after her to apologize. There was an awkwardness between Steve and Pepper that he didn't know how to fix; a distance he didn't see any means of closing.

Pepper liked his friendship with Natasha, though, enthusiastically enough that he couldn't bring himself to confess that the soft pulse of lust he'd felt for Natalie on first sight had never gone away, not even when he'd realized she'd been a lie.

* * *

His interrogators kept asking about his tech, about the secrets behind the arc reactor. It made Tony want to laugh, how obsessed Hammer seemed over it all.

He was starting to feel worn along the edges and, sometimes, when his eyes were fuzzy, he thought he was in a cave and not a basement.

Except he'd never been alone in Afghanistan.

But then he wondered if, perhaps, he'd always been alone.

What if there had no Yinsen, no rescue, no Iron Man, no Avengers.

Maybe it had always been Hammer who'd held him captive.

That's when he finally did laugh.

Once he started, he couldn't turn it off, and his own voice was harsh in his ears, a cracked, hysterical sound that echoed off the walls.

* * *

The first time he'd thought about sleeping with Natasha—really thought about it—had been two weeks before he'd gone ahead and kissed her. It had been one of their nights together and she'd relaxed enough to laugh, her feet resting in his lap. She was always beautiful but that night she seemed _approachable_ , tempting and sweet.

The next day, he'd showered Pepper with attention, enough to make her annoyed and even a little suspicious he'd done something to screw up the company's stock and didn't want to tell her.

He didn't let himself realize it was guilt driving him. Not yet.

* * *

It was the sound of her voice that brought him back to himself.

Low and throaty. Worried. Saying his name. She hadn't even said his name when they'd slept together. Yet she was saying it now.

Natasha Romanoff was cupping his head in her hands and the way she said his name sounded like a prayer.

She'd come for him and it brought the world back into focus.

Because if Natasha was here, if Natasha was real, then everything else was, too.

The Avengers were real.

* * *

He didn't think about Pepper the entire night he and Natasha spent together, not once from the moment that Natasha had quirked her eyebrow and said that they were going to concentrate on having a good time.

A good man, a better man, the man that Tony had tried to turn himself into—that man _would_ have thought of Pepper. He would have kept himself from ever kissing Natasha.

That man would have stopped himself the moment he realized that the thought of sleeping with Natasha had become more than a guilty pleasure he occasionally indulged in while having some alone time.

Instead, Tony hadn't changed his habits at all. He kept spending exactly as much time with Natasha as he had before and he didn't breathe a word of his changed feelings to Pepper.

After all, why bother when he was convinced he'd made himself into a man who would never betray the woman he loved and adored. No need to worry when everything was perfectly under control.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

But if a man's fooling himself, the sky's the limit.

* * *

When Tony woke up after being rescued from Hammer's cut-rate dungeon, the first thing he saw was Steve, all stretched out on a too-short cot set at the foot of Tony's bed.

Steve Rogers. Captain America, alive and well in the twenty-first century.

There was a tightness in Tony's chest, but he couldn't move his arms to check up on his reactor. All he could do was stare at Steve.

An odd sort of laugh was stuck in Tony's throat.

Last time, he'd had to get himself out. This time—this time...

This time, he hadn't been forgotten, not even in his darkest hour.

He opened his mouth to talk to Steve and share the good news, but he couldn't quite make the sounds come out.

He drifted back off to sleep before he figured out how.

* * *

Waking up the morning after his night with Natasha had been like waking from a dream. At first, he hadn't been certain it had even happened—not until JARVIS relayed Natasha's words to him.

She wouldn't tell Pepper.

She was _sorry_.

And there was a message from her to all the Avengers about having gone away on an undercover mission.

When he had JARVIS try to call her, it only went to voicemail. He thought about giving Fury a call directly but Natasha...obviously, she didn't want anyone to know she'd slept with him. She'd gone to rather extreme lengths to avoid a morning after scene. He wouldn't blow her cover.

So, instead, he got dressed and he went about his day.

Pepper got home around eleven in the morning. She called to see if he wanted to meet up for lunch. She wanted to apologize, her message said, for what she'd said to him yesterday.

He had JARVIS tell her he was too busy.

* * *

The second time he woke up after his rescue from Hammer, Natasha was sitting in a chair next to his bed. She was the bearer of one piece of good news—Justin Hammer was dead—and a lot of bad news—JARVIS was down, Tony's stuff had been ransacked, and Natasha had no interest in talking about the night she'd screwed him and then run off to parts unknown.

Normally, at this point, he wouldn't still be in a hospital. Pepper would have arranged for him to be cared for at some place friendlier.

God, _Pepper_. There was a thought to make his head ache.

She would, understandably, still be incredibly mad at him. He was pretty sure even being kidnapped wasn't going to have helped on that count. He wasn't entirely certain if she'd officially called things off or if she'd just called for a cease-fire, so he still had that conversation to get through. Maybe she'd hold off on it until he was out of a hospital bed.

He doubted he would be that lucky.

* * *

Tony spent the entire day trying to decide what to tell Pepper about Natasha. Trying to decide _how_ to tell her. He had to be honest about something as terrible and huge as this. He knew that much about relationships.

They had dinner that night and she told him she hadn't meant what she'd said the other day. "I was just angry," she said, her hand covering his, that diamond flashing up at him like the price of his sins. "Obviously, you'd never sleep with Steve. I know that. I shouldn't have let my temper get the better of me."

Funny, how he'd never realized that he thought of the sex that he and Pepper had as 'making love' until that night, when he couldn't think of it that way anymore. His hands felt dirty, his mouth was clumsy, and everywhere he looked he saw the wrong woman.

And he never did tell Pepper the truth.

* * *

The thing about being tortured was that it lingered past the actual wounds, left scars that never healed.

Tony never stopped having nightmares about Afghanistan. The hole in his chest was a constant reminder of what he'd lost there and what he'd learned.

He'd grown up thinking of the family business with pride. Stark Industries protected freedom, democracy, and the American way of life. With everything that his father had to be ashamed of in Tony, at least he would have been content to know that Tony hadn't abandoned the family legacy.

Then had come Afghanistan, where all of Tony's comforting illusions had been ripped away.

No. Not all of them. Not yet.

* * *

Tony went out to a bar the next night to think. Just to think. He couldn't stay at home, not with all the reminders of Pepper and Natasha. He'd only wanted to clear his head.

A blonde woman at the other end of the bar's counter wiped her eyes on a napkin, smearing her eyeshadow. She looked as miserable and lonely as he felt.

He bought her a drink.

Her boyfriend had broken up with her, Claire explained in a halting voice. She'd loved him more than anything in the world and he'd left her. Moved out of their apartment.

"I wish I could stop thinking about him," she whispered.

She looked up at him, her eyes soft and hopeful.

He put his hand over hers, stroked his thumb against her wrist. She smiled.

In the morning, when he woke up in her bed, she was still there.

He looked past her shoulder and began, "Thank you for a wonderful evening—"

"—but it can't happen again?" she finished for him, with an obviously relieved laugh. "Don't worry. I was telling the truth last night. I'm not looking for a new boyfriend. It was just a bit of harmless fun."

"Yeah," Tony said. "Fun."

"Before you go, did you want breakfast?" she asked, the strap of her nightgown slipping off her shoulder.

He reached up and brushed her hair back, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then pulled her back into the bed.

They did end up having breakfast before he left, an hour or so later.

* * *

After Natasha left Tony's hospital room, Bruce crept in, his glasses slightly askew on his nose. He was wearing a horrible shade of yellow that didn't match his complexion at all, and he sat on the edge of the chair as if afraid it would swallow him alive.

"You look worse than I feel," Tony said. "Which is impressive, considering you never get hurt."

"I'm not allowed to worry?" Bruce asked, with a bit of a shrug. "Tony, if it hadn't been for Natasha..."

"She found me, I know," Tony said. "But one of you had to be the first one in the room."

"No, she—she's the one who figured it all out," Bruce said. "If she hadn't come home when she did...I don't know how long it would have taken us to find you."

"How _did_ you guys find me?" Tony asked. "Hammer didn't think you would."

It was a lie, if only by implication. Justin Hammer hadn't mentioned the Avengers at all, not even to taunt Tony about them. It had been part of what had made Tony doubt himself, during the hours they'd left him alone in that room.

Bruce lit up at the question. "You're going to be impressed as hell, Tony. I know I was."

Of course he would be. Natasha never did anything by halves.

* * *

"I don't understand," Pepper said. Tony looked down at his own hands, closing his eyes at the confused tone in her voice. "When I saw the pictures...your hands were all over that girl, Tony. Did you go home with her last night?"

"Yes," Tony said, softly.

"Did you sleep with her? I don't—Tony, look at me, please."

He swallowed hard and met Pepper's eyes. "I guess I'm not ready to get married," he said, his voice hollow. "I'm so sorry, Pep."

Pepper's mouth was trembling. "Okay," she said. "Okay. We can put off the wedding. This doesn't...you stay out of the bars and this won't happen again and it'll all be okay. We'll just wait until this all blows over. I'll...I'll cancel the Avengers fundraiser. Or postpone, at least. We can...we'll make it through this. It'll be okay."

Tony nodded and Pepper managed a smile, though it wasn't steady at the edges.

* * *

"I'm glad you're awake, Mr. Stark," Pepper said, sliding neatly into the chair. Bruce gave a final wave to both of them and then headed out the door. "We have some paperwork to deal with, so I hope your right hand is as healthy as the doctor said it was."

"Pep..."

"Yes, _Mr. Stark_?" Pepper smiled, tight and fake. It hurt worse than a slap would have.

"Yeah," Tony said, after another moment. "My right hand is working fine."

"Good. That's good." For a second, the real Pepper cracked through the mask, a hint of genuine relief showing, then she covered it over again with that bland smile. "Let's begin."

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking?" Rhodey asked, pushing Tony's shoulder. Tony shrugged him off and turned back to his new robot, working name SMEE. "Cheating on Pepper? What happened to your brain?"

"It was a stupid mistake. I know that," Tony said, unscrewing the joint he'd just attached. It looked all wrong. No flow with the body. "Christ, get off my back about it already."

"I thought you were trying to make a new start," Rhodey said. "How is this a new start?"

"Just fuck off and leave me alone, okay?" Tony punctuated his words by throwing the now-detached bot limb onto the floor and grabbing a different one. He started to screw it into place. "Pepper and I already talked it all out. She's giving me a second chance. It's not your business."

"Fine, whatever," Rhodey said. "But, Tony, if you need to talk about anything, I'm here. Just...just talk to me this time, please."

* * *

"I think we need to talk about the drinking," Steve said. Tony opened his mouth to say something sharp and cutting, but then the look on Steve's face registered. It wasn't the face he made when he was judging Tony; it was soft and sympathetic.

"I'm not an alcoholic," Tony said.

"I don't care what you call yourself, Tony," Steve said. "I care about the fact there's someone out there targeting you and when you're drinking, you're vulnerable. I know none of this has been normal for you. Ms. Potts said the last time you acted like this, you were dying. Are you...is there a health issue I should know about?"

Tony pressed his head back against his pillow. "This why you've been walking on eggshells around me the last few months? You were afraid I was _dying_?"

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Steve said dryly. "Is there anything else I should know about? Anything that might affect the team?"

"Not that I can think of," Tony said. Steve made a disapproving sound. "You're right. I've got some issues I'm working through. But talking won't do any good. Won't help. Might hurt. So, I gotta just bull through. Just keep swimming, keep pushing that water through my gills."

"If you do decide talking might help, I've had one or two people say I'm a good listener," Steve said. "Tony...if you do tell me something in confidence, I'm not going to be sitting there judging, okay?"

"Sure thing, Cap," Tony said. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you," Steve said. "And, Tony—as long as we've got this mysterious person out there, maybe keep the drinking confined to the Tower?"

"I think I can manage that one," Tony said.

* * *

"Dinner up at the Tower later this evening?" Tony asked. He would tell her about Natasha tonight, he'd decided five minutes ago. She needed to know; deserved to know.

"If you're not too busy with Captain Rogers," Pepper said. "Or any other blonde bimbos you might happen to run across."

"Claire wasn't a bimbo," Tony said, before he could stop himself.

"Oh, Claire. Right, _Claire_ was probably a nuclear physicist or an...an international diplomat," Pepper said, rolling her eyes. "Like you didn't pick her for the way she looked in a skirt. Let's not play pretend, Tony."

"I know I screwed up—"

"Screwed up?" Pepper asked. "Yeah, Tony, you screwed up."

"Pep..."

"Just get out, okay," she said. "We'll talk about it later."

Tony stared at her for a moment longer, then got up, hurrying out of her office. He was standing on a balcony overlooking an employee break area when he spotted someone just heading out, back to work.

Someone who was very familiar.

"So, how's the number-crunching business treating you?" Tony asked, dropping down in the chair on the far side of Randall Kirk's desk.

"Stark?" Randall blinked at Tony, then took off his glasses. "I didn't realize you even knew I worked here."

"Of course I did," Tony said. "I do glance at my employee records from time-to-time, Randy, and I don't forget the names or the faces of the people I've slept with. Even if it was almost...well, almost fifteen years ago."

Both of Randall's eyebrows raised, then he looked around the floor, as if checking to see that they really were still at Stark Industries. "Aren't you getting married?" he asked, after a moment.

Tony's smile threatened to slip, but he managed to keep it in place.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, putting his hand over Randall's wrist.

"I think...if you're asking what I think you're asking..." he hesitated, looking around the room again. "Hell, that weekend was pretty memorable. I'd be up for a repeat."

* * *

Some of the paperwork Pepper had instructed him to sign had led to him getting taken back to the Tower, a caregiver sent with him. Being at home, in the place he'd decorated with Pepper, ached in a good way.

He got caught up on what had happened while he'd been missing, somewhat shocked to learn that he'd been missing less than week.

If he'd been asked, he would have sworn he'd been down in that basement for as long as he'd been in Afghanistan. Strange, how the mind played tricks on a guy.

* * *

"When you said you weren't ready to get married...you meant never, didn't you?" Pepper asked.

Randall had left the room only a few minutes earlier, still bright red with embarrassment from Pepper walking in on them. He hadn't even finished dressing before he'd run off.

"Pep..."

"I can take a hint, Tony," she said, sliding the ring he'd given her off her finger. She dropped it on the bed, somewhere near his feet. "I...I would appreciate it if any necessary communications were sent through my P.A. rather than directly to me—I believe JARVIS should have her number."

She turned on her heel and left.

Tony leaned down and fished the ring out of the covers.

"JARVIS?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir?"

He stared down at the ring as it rolled slightly in the palm of his hand.

"Nothing," he said. He put the ring carefully in the drawer next to the bed. "Lights off."

"As you wish," JARVIS said. "Sir...are you certain you're doing the right thing?"

"I'm pretty sure I didn't get enough sleep last night," Tony said. "Lights, please."

As always, JARVIS obeyed.

* * *

Tony was torn on the issue of being coddled. He did like getting the things he wanted before he'd even said he'd wanted them. He wasn't as big a fan of the hovering.

And the idea that he couldn't be Iron Man for an entire _month_ was ridiculous.

At least he was able to throw himself into repairing JARVIS, as long as he didn't strain himself too much. He'd like it better if he were the one allowed to define what 'too much' meant.

Things were slowly healing, though, and not just physically. Pepper was talking to him again and, sure, things would never be what they'd been before he'd screwed it all to hell and back, but at least she wouldn't hate him forever.

Natasha was distant but not unfriendly. The one time he'd suggested reinstating their drinking nights, she'd hesitated and said, "Probably not the best idea, Stark," and that had been that.

Anyway, she was right. The two of them plus alcohol had always been a mistake waiting to happen. He couldn't blame her for wishing she'd never gone there.

He told himself he felt the same way.

* * *

The thing about being tortured—the part no one wanted to talk about—was that constant reminders lurked in daily life. The drip of a water faucet. The revving of an engine. The soft sparking of electricity. Every sound was a threat.

And when the reason a man had been tortured was because someone he'd loved had betrayed him, it tainted everyone he loved. Certainty was no longer something that existed because of affection. It had to be earned, blood for blood.

Every person was doubted, even the most trustworthy.

Even himself.

Especially himself.

Torture reshaped a man and turned him into someone new.

It wasn't an event; it was a beginning.

Because the thing about torture was that it never did end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hephaestus is the Greek god of blacksmiths and related artisans.
> 
> Content warning: This chapter contains torture, both in action and some aftereffects. There are also multiple instances of infidelity, none of which are described in detail.


End file.
